Slowly, slowly

Still no internet. Thankfully we have kind landlords who are letting us use theirs sometimes, but we don't want to impose too much. We love where we live and the location is great! I forgot how time consuming it is to get everything set up when you shift here. Weeks later we still have no water filter hooked up, no internet, no cable, and no phone line. Oh, India, I like you, but sometimes you just give me grey hairs. Hopefully by the time our internet gets transferred I won't have completely forgotten the stories I want to tell you. Or moved back to America. You know, one or the other.

Movin' on up

I'm "shifting" as they say here. I'm sitting in my nearly empty flat, save for some packed plastic bags, stuffed suitcases, and odds and ends as the movers load up our other belongings into the back of an open end truck. Shifting here is interesting, to say the least. Four men barged into our flat this morning and started carrying our belongings out without a word. We were ordered to write letters asking security to let our belongings out of the complex and another one to let our belongings in. Notifications are so weird here.

I have to confess, I'm strangely nostalgic. Our little flat, our yellow, blue, and green flat...we're leaving it. Our postman that texts us when we have packages...we'll have a different one. We're leaving the nice guards who smile sweetly and say "Good evening!" or "Good afternoon!"

(written 12 Feb)
...and that is precisely when we were told the car was about to leave and we had to finish loading everything up for the trip. So much for nostalgia. That's the India I know...chaotic, last minute, rushed.

Anyway, now we've moved but have no internet. So you probably won't hear from me for awhile. Til then...

Goodbye, winter

It's going to be really hot here soon. As in so hot and humid that just existing here will include massive amounts of sweat each day. Delightful. Can't wait for those days to return. "Winter" is definitely over here. Yes, I know it's only February. I thought I would miss cold weather and sometimes I do. But this is just crazy.


I've definitely got the better end of the deal right now.

That's what I'm going to tell myself when it's suffocatingly hot here in about a month.

Seriously? That's it?

I went to go visit a friend in the hospital the other day and as I was waiting for the elevator I noticed a sign that said, “After twenty years of excellence in kidney care, we have gained only one thing. Your trust.”

Really? That’s the only thing? You haven’t learned anything, done any research, or accomplished anything else? You haven’t gained a profit at all? Is this supposed to inspire confidence in the care here? I (think) I get what they’re going for, but couldn’t they have made it a little less ambiguous?

The Flood

Remember when I said maybe one day I’d tell you about the washing machine story? Not a lot else to talk about today.

A few months ago, our washing machine died. It had been a slow decline over many months, so we weren’t surprised. It was going to be a week or two before we could get another one, and one of our friends was out of the country for several weeks. We decided to just go to his flat and do our laundry there. Who knows what the guards thought seeing us carry our dirty laundry to the other end of the complex?

In my friend’s flat, the washing machine is right next to the balcony door. Nothing looked amiss, so I started a large load of clothes. I went back to my flat to take a short nap and returned an hour later. As I turned the corner and the building was in view, I noticed water coming toward me. Like a lot of water.

“Geez, who made this mess?” I wondered.

I stepped into the building and walked carefully through the flooded lobby and up the steps to the second floor that had water streaming down them. As I got to the top of the waterfall, I suddenly realized (yes, it took me this long), “Oh no! I MADE THIS MESS!”

I stepped into the flooded flat and glared at the source of all the mess. What had I done wrong?! I called my roommate and said, “Bring towels. Lots and lots of towels” and promptly hung up to look for a squeegee.

*Side note: In case you’re wondering how I knew there would be a squeegee in the flat, it’s because we all have them here. When you take a shower, there is no curtain or tub or anything else unless you are living the high life (we aren’t living that high). There’s just a shower head and that’s it. Not surprisingly, water goes everywhere and when you are done, you squeegee the rest of the bathroom.

Anyway, I found one and started cleaning water from the hall, one of the bedrooms, and the living room. I didn’t have anything else to do with it, so I just kept the door open and lopped it right over the edge and onto the stairs. Soon enough a smiling little man appeared in the doorway holding a squeegee and started helping.

I gave the squeegee to my roommate and started shuffling my feet around on the towels on the floor. The living room was still flooded when the guy said, “OK, finish.” I smiled and said, “No. Give me the squeegee.” I’ve heard that Indians think that white people don’t know how to cook or clean before. Apparently this is true because this guy looked horrified and said, “Oh no madam!” “Ok, not finished then.” He got back to work. I felt bad for the guys that had been cleaning up the steps and lobby as we sloshed water over the edge and reflooded them again. After we were done, I turned on every fan in the apartment on high.

The guards eyed me suspiciously and some were smiling as they watched me leave, carrying about eight wet towels across the complex to hang to dry at our flat. This is exactly when I ran into our house helper. Keep in mind the entire conversation took place in Hindi.

Didi: “Didi? What happened?!”
Me: “S’s flat. Water, water, water! So much water! Water is in all places!”
Didi: “Yes? What happened?”
Me: “Um…the washing machine is very bad.”
Didi: “Do you need help?”
Me: “No thank you. Finished.”
Didi: “Really?”
Me: “Yes. The fans! The fans are leaving! All the fans are leaving!” She looked confused for a minute until I motioned the ceiling fans were on.
Didi: “Oh! Okay. See you later then.”
Me: “Yes, ok, see you later!”

This could have been a disastrous event, but it was more funny than anything. The furniture is supported by about three inch wooden legs, so it wasn’t damaged. After everything dried, the floor was totally spotless from the flood.

I meant to tell my friend, but I honestly just forgot until he got back. He was telling me how the house helper had done such a good job cleaning while he was gone. He mentioned that his floor was so clean, she had even cleaned behind the washing machine.

“Yeah, about that…”

P.S. Curious about what I did wrong? The draining hose was connected to the drain in the floor, but what I didn’t know is that it wasn’t sealed. S hadn’t planned on anyone doing laundry there while he was gone, and therefore hadn’t told us that you have to put the hose on the balcony where there is actually a drain. He found out the hard way too. So did someone else about a month ago. No wonder Indians think we can’t cook or clean things for ourselves.